Balder

by Camille Oster

  Balder had been a true husband. He had not strayed, or ever been hurtful to her. But his love for her had always had an unrelenting edge. There had been a hardness to it, that refused to broker much compromise.

  In a way, he and Hel were similar. If he could have coaxed her with potions and magics, he would have. Over time, gentleness and love had grown. Forseti had been born and she had been happy raising the boy. They had been happy—until Balder had been killed by his blind brother, Hoder, through one of Loke's tricks. A sprig of mistletoe piercing his heart.

  That day had been horrific. The pain of it was still etched in her heart. It had been fierce and her heart had given out. Or perhaps Balder's strength had been needed to sustain her. A human didn't belong in Asgard, and when he'd died, so had she.

  Nanna blinked as these old memories played themselves out in her mind. There had been love and there had been sadness. And then so much misery as Balder in death stopped seeing her altogether, his passion directed exclusively elsewhere. For a long time, she had mourned and cried, grown angry and hateful, both towards Balder and Hel.

  Now…? She didn't know how she felt. In some ways, she had back the man she had loved, but that love echoed from centuries back. She had loved him as her husband and the father of her child, but that was a long time ago. Could it be revived to be more than a memory? Should it survive? What should survive death and rebirth?

  Chapter 17

  NIDHOGG WAS DISAPPOINTED that Hel refused to share her harvest with him, but these boys were for her. Being young, they were curious and lively, enjoying the banqueting and the wine. Her hall was lively again, and Hel had taken one of them to her bed. A new body to explore. It did alleviate some of the hurt, but it didn't have the comfort and warmth of the man she had known for so long.

  Her warriors had no skills whatsoever, but that would change. They would learn sword and combat skills, and they would be part of her army. Perhaps they would even be her generals, enjoying a privileged position in her realm that few others were afforded. Largely it was given out of spite, but the boys appreciated the honor. Here, they would never grow old, they would never take ill and die.

  The emptiness of her hall was chased away and there was laughing and feasting every day. Hel did feel better, but she also wanted to know what impact her act had generated. She ached to know how Balder reacted to this. Was there something in him more than hate? Jealousy, perhaps? Or did he believe himself smitten with his mousy wife? Already, he had shown no appreciation for the things Hel had done for him.

  Dismay twisted Hel's gut again. It was so unjust the way she was being treated, but then gods were always arrogant and self-serving. It had been so since the beginning of time.

  Still, not knowing how Balder felt about this was hindering her enjoyment of her new companions. Raging jealousy or complete indifference. Either would tell her much, and not knowing was eating at her.

  Twisting her thumbnail between her teeth, she stared out at the lake through the window, ignoring the boisterous young men behind her. Two of them had taken to wrestling before and Hel had enjoyed watching them. They would compete for her affection if she wanted them to. Perhaps she would let them.

  Unfortunately, something felt unsettled and it speared at her every time her thoughts drifted. How could Balder simply turn his back on her when they had been together for so long? Did he not miss her? A part of her refused to believe that was true. Yes, he was angry, but anger only masked other things. Or was he deluding himself? There was a good chance.

  Smiling, Hel bit the tip of her finger again. Maybe he even believed that he loved Nanna. That would be the ultimate self-delusion. If true, he deserved scorn.

  "Bring my horse," she ordered. The boys were silent behind her for a moment, as if they weren't really sure what to do if she left. They would have to get used to it. There was still a job for her to do. She felt the call. Whoever it was, Nidhogg would feed.

  "Helhest is ready," said the croaky voice of Ganglati.

  Without saying anything, Hel strode out the door and approached her horse. Quietly, she rode out with her hound in tow. Anticipation was growing inside her. She would get some of the answers she sought.

  Through the river, she emerged to a grey and rainy day. The rain didn't bother her. It froze to snow in her vicinity, floating gently to the ground. Midgard was always more beautiful in the winter, but it was warm and green, nature lush and flourishing.

  It was an elderly woman calling to her. Not consciously as they had in the olden days. These people didn't know her—that she was the one who came to collect them. The knowledge had slipped away, and Vali wasn't bothering to inform them. In times before, humans had prayed to her, urged her to favor them. They had known she was coming for them at the end of their lives and called for her.

  "Not yet," Hel said to the hound that was following behind her, ready to herald her arrival. Hel didn't steer her horse to the ailing woman's hut. It wasn't yet her intention to relieve the woman from her suffering. Firstly, Hel wanted to see how things were.

  It was late in the afternoon and it was dark enough with rain that many had lit fires and oil lamps. The streets were mostly empty with the weather, and those who saw her horse and hound stalking the streets. The lack of knowledge about her and her ways had some benefit, she supposed. Those who saw her horse didn't know that death was stalking their village.

  Through the window of Vali's hall, she saw no one sitting and feasting. It was too early and night hadn't descended yet. No one there to spy on.

  "What are you doing here?" she heard that very familiar voice behind her. For a moment she didn't look or acknowledge him.

  "You know why I am here."

  "Come to claim more of our young boys?"

  "Our?" she asked. The intention to ignore him didn't last long. "You claim kinship with these people now?"

  "They are a part of this village, and so are we."

  Looking at him, it struck her how familiar he was to her. But the expression was not the one she was used to. Suspicion and anger met her, when before it was always relief and joy. Always ready to take her in his arms.

  His empty hands showed he was unarmed, although there was a dagger at his side. He hadn't drawn it, so he showed no intentions of aggression. Would he really hurt her? Suddenly, she wanted to know.

  "So you don't intend to return then, as you promised."

  "It wasn't me making those promises, it turns out," he replied.

  Dismounting, Hel stepped closer and crossed her arms. "Really? Do you think you had so little responsibility over yourself?"

  "I had no choice in the things I did and said."

  Bitterly, Hel smiled. "You would like to believe so, I think." Balder only stared at her, reproach clear in his eyes. "You delude yourself."

  "I see clearly for the first time in centuries."

  A tinkling laugh tumbled out of Hel's throat. "You always had the propensity to believe false things about yourself. Didn't you once believe that nothing could ever harm you, but you ended up dead at my doorstep?"

  Apparently, he would not acknowledge the logic. Hel felt disappointed. "The same way you believe that my magic is so strong it will override true love and generate emotions in you that aren't there."

  "Why else would you have done it?" he challenged.

  As she stepped closer, he refused to budge. His corded arms that had used to hold her were crossed and distancing. "Perhaps I wished to alleviate you of your guilt. Because it's always there, always has been. It is what drives you now."

  "No," he said sternly.

  Hel's eyebrows rose. "Then you are lying to yourself. Guilt has always driven you." It was a statement of fact.

  The familiar scent of him lingered in her nose. How could they be this close and his arms were not around her? It seemed strange, unnatural. She wanted his lips, ached for them. As much as she had denied it, she missed him.

  "But then what would you know about guilt?" he said. "You have nev
er felt any for anything you've done. How are the boys you stole in their prime? They didn't belong to you."

  With a smile, she bit her lip. "They do now. Keep me company, and they try so hard to please me."

  He snorted with disgust. Something ghosted through his eyes, but she couldn't entirely read it. He wasn't showing her what he really thought.

  "You did leave me all alone," she continued. "What was I supposed to do? My bed seemed to empty."

  Quick as a serpent, his hand clasped around her throat. She hadn't expected it, not that he could really hurt her. It would take much more than a hand around her throat. The warmth of his hand seeped into her skin. Even this was a familiar touch. They were close and for a moment, Hel thought he was going to kiss her. This was the well-worn path with them.

  Instead, his fingers slowly let go of her, almost grudgingly. "Don't steal any more of our people—other than those you are due. We don't like it. Don't force us to act."

  "And do what? You going to ride on me for the sake of some humans?" Why exactly was he warning her from what she had done for millennia? Taking humans was what she did. At times, scores and scores of them. She had never been challenged on it, and it really wasn't his place to challenge her. "Humans are born to die, or have you forgotten that? Or are you upset that I am taking ones I will take to my bed." There was both scorn and teasing in her voice.

  For a moment, the expression in his eyes indicated that the punishing hand would be back at her throat, but he restrained himself. "Don't take and enslave humans to punish me."

  It was Hel's turn to snort. "Don't flatter yourself." She took a step back, retreating toward her horse. "Believe me, no one has ever been in my bed who didn't want to be there."

  His strong arms crossed in front of him again, the look murderous. Clearly he didn't believe her.

  "Believe what you like," she said as she mounted her horse. Sitting upright, she looked down on them. "Don't get in my way. I have a mandate with the humans. You are simply here because you have nowhere else to be. Midgard was never intended for you."

  "It's a new cycle, none of the old rules apply."

  "Perhaps I should stop doing my job then," Hel said. "Perhaps I should let the dying humans rot here until they stink up the whole realm. Or maybe you should take over shepparding them. There is no reason I cannot claim a new role as well. Maybe I should be the goddess of vengeance on fickle men. I think I would like that role."

  Steering her horse, she turned away from him. For a moment, she considered leaving the dying woman here to prove her point, but she had promised Nidhogg she would return with someone to bleed.

  Chapter 18

  WITH HIS ARMS STILL crossed, Balder stood exactly where he was. Hel was gone and stillness descended around him, until he heard her hound howling as she claimed whoever she had come for. It had grown dark and the villagers were all shut away in their cottages, perhaps sensing that death was crawling around in the darkness.

  Inside him, he felt guilt and distress, because there was an echo of the comfort he'd felt whenever Hel had used to come to him. The familiar tug of wanting her. It was all just remnants of past behavior, but he still felt it. Along with the biting discomfort he refused to acknowledge.

  In his mind's eye, he could see her in her hall with her new playthings. She'd done it out of spite, trying to evoke jealousy. The degree to her delusions was astounding. Couldn't she see that they were simply distressed that she took the village’s strongest? That was the sole reason they cared.

  Jealous. As if he would be jealous of some whelps cavorting at her feet. No, what sane person would be jealous of that? No, not jealousy. Never jealousy. He wouldn't go back there in a million years. But he did feel injured seeing her again, his heart heavy. It felt a little like poking at an open wound, even if he refused to believe he had any feelings for her—other than the anger at being trapped and deceived for so long.

  The bitterness in her was clear; her voice was laced with it. But his bitterness was clear too. When he'd had his hand around her throat, he'd wanted to squeeze the life out of her. It had felt good squeezing her thin neck where half of her skin was grey and dead, and the other soft and smooth. It should disgust him, but it didn't. Perhaps that was the remnant of being in her bed for so very long. He knew every part of her and had been so beguiled, he hadn't even seen it as being anything other than just her.

  Closing his eyes, he tried to push her out of his mind—and the idea that she was intermittently lurking along the village's streets and paths. Skirting the village, looking for a way in—looking for vengeance.

  While having been out of his mind for longer than he could recall, he did know her. Hel took badly to being slighted, and even worse to being scorned. Her pride was a fragile thing, and if he really wanted to hurt her, that was where the strikes would hit home. The fact that she needed to enthrall someone to love her.

  Balder returned to the hall where the fires had been lit and food was being laid out for the evening's feast.

  What he really couldn't forgive was that Hel had stolen the afterlife he should have had with his wife. They should have been there together, but Hel had intervened with her manipulation and aching jealousy. Because given the choice, he wouldn't have chosen her. Her mind was as flawed as the dead skin covering half of her. She had none of the kindness, the virtue and honesty that Nanna had. Hel cheated, manipulated and coerced.

  Walking down the corridor that led to Nanna's room, he gently knocked on the door. Now they would have the afterlife they should have had—now that they were living again. Every day, Nanna grew more present and stronger after the ordeal she had suffered.

  Renewed guilt welled up again, and then disgust and anger at Hel's accusation that he was driven by guilt. Yes, he was driven by guilt because Hel had made him guilty.

  "We are set to dine. Will you come to the great table tonight?"

  The window had been closed by the servants, so Nanna simply sat on a chair, her blond hair glistening like spun gold by the light of the fire. She was so very beautiful, always had been.

  "Come, I will take you," he said, offering his arm. "You must eat and grow stronger. Lily wishes you would join us. Vali, too."

  Seldom did Nanna speak, but now she nodded. Taking his arm, they walked slowly to the main hall. The evenings were not boisterous affairs, as Nanna was still very fragile, and Lily was growing larger with child. "Remember the evenings we had in Asgard? The long table around which everyone sat?"

  Although she didn't speak, he could tell that she was listening. Actually, he didn't like recalling the old days, but he felt it was a way of reaching Nanna. They had been very happy for a while, and he would much rather she remember the happy times than the sad ones. They had lost so much time.

  Vali and Lily were sitting at the table, the comfort and closeness between them visible to anyone who looked at them. He and Nanna would be happy again—he would ensure it.

  Lily smiled as she looked up, clearly pleased to see them, her hand reaching out for Nanna to join her. It seemed Nanna liked Lily and sat down next to the woman.

  "I heard Hel's hound," Vali said quietly as Balder sat down.

  "She was here."

  "You saw her?"

  Slowly, Balder nodded. He didn't want Nanna to know. It would only distress her to know Hel was occasionally creeping around. With people dying, it was inevitable, but he didn't want to bring attention to it. "She is her typical spiteful self."

  Vali didn't say anything further and Balder busied himself with the fine cut of lamb that had been roasted for them.

  For so long, it had simply been him and Hel dining together. Just the two of them, dining and then retiring to long nights spent in each other's arms. Revulsion and anger simmered through him. It had all been stolen, and Nanna had been robbed worse than him. In all honesty, he'd felt none of the atrocity of it until it was over.

  The worst was that he still responded to Hel. His body did. The familiar scent and feel
of her. It was enough to drive him out of his own skin. It was as though he needed to exorcise her. Simply hating her wasn't enough.

  But maybe turning his attention in the direction it should be was what he needed. His task was to heal Nanna from the wounds inflicted on her. Guilt bubbled inside him again.

  As much as he hated it, perhaps there was something to be said for Hel knowing him too. It seemed she knew the guilt that simmered inside of him. Relief from his guilt was what she'd said. She'd bespelled him with potions so he wouldn't suffer from his guilt. It wasn't hers to take.

  As he watched, Nanna smiled weakly at something Lily said. It was the first smile he had seen. Her recovery was moving forwards, but she was more comfortable with Lily than she was with him. It was understandable that her anger was directed at him. He was the one who hadn't been strong enough to break the magic. It would forever be his shame.

  The company suddenly felt suffocating. All he wanted was a moment's peace. Searching for something else to settle his mind on, he considered the conclusion they had drawn the other day, that there was someone else around—someone unseen. They were not in plain sight. There was no one living in Asgard in the empty and ruined walls of Valhalla. There was no one in the fields.

  Their own existence in Midgard was no secret, their hall open for anyone seeking them. Which meant this person wasn't seeking. They hadn't checked the halls in Vanaheim, taking Ratatosk's word that it was nothing but charred remains like Asgard.

  It could be that this person was residing somewhere in the realms of the frost giants, or even with the dwarves. In that case, they were likely not sympathetic. But someone had placed Vali in a mountain hall in Midgard. Vali seemed resistant to the idea that he had done so himself and simply didn't remember. Someone had also released the Dragrs on Midgard. That was not the act of benevolence. This person could be intent on destruction, and they would go to any length, including the destruction of the humans.